


Lasting Marks

by twowritehands



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cuddles, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:45:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu and Chekov have a routine....this is just PWP stuffed with fluff :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lasting Marks

Original Prompt [here](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=39583#t39583): Sulu/Chekov, rough!sex with plenty of cuddles after

 

:::::::::::::::

It wouldn’t be accurate to say either one of them submitted to the other; that just wasn’t their style.

Sulu liked slamming his cock into the ensign’s tight, hot, willing ass, but he also liked to have to work for it, to be kept on his toes, to be challenged. Chekov liked to make sure that his superior officer went into every fuck unsure how it would go down; he wanted Sulu to know that it could be just as likely that he, Sulu, would be the one being bent in half and made to take it. Sulu’s sheets had been kicked to the floor, giving them unhindered space on his expansive mattress to roll as they grappled with nearly matched displays of power.

Sulu was the strongest but only just; he enjoyed when Chekov fought back, used his strength against his hold. He craved it like nothing else, the collision of their bodies, like breathless war, like sweet torture, obtainable bliss. And for all he liked being the dominate one, it made the pilot’s blood spike when, often enough, the ensign was able to gain the upper hand and pin him down, work him open and thrust into him until he spilled every drop. So when Chekov managed to pin him, straddling him, hands on his chest, Sulu was instantly ready for what could come next.

Pavel’s thighs were strong and fuzzy on either side of him, and his hips--those _hips_ rolled fluidly, pushing his slender, dewy cock against him. His smile was big and bright--brief because of his panting--but there because of his triumph for coming out on top. Chest heaving, he fell down on Hikaru for a deep kiss, the kind that ended with a bite and scrap of teeth.

He kissed like he was dying to reach Sulu’s heart from there, because he was. Above all things in the universe, the only thing the curly haired young man wanted to touch was that warrior heart pounding in Sulu’s firm chest. He bit him for it because the animal in the young man needed to express its frenzied lust somehow.

Hikaru always bit back, which was so good Pavel could cry, (and sometimes he did but blamed it on the sweat typically beading on their hairlines, stinging in their eyes, making their skin slick and their bites salty.) As Pavel grinded their cocks together, he relished Sulu’s hands sweeping over his whole body, scratching his chest and down his ribs and around his belly and up his back, then down his arms. Sulu touched him like his outline was memorized, an imprint that his hands knew how to follow. (Hikaru had the most _amazing_ hands, strong and calloused by his sword hilt, but not too much.)

Then, taking such a hard grip on Chekov’s pale, pert ass that his nails dug in to leave half-moon marks, Sulu sat up in a surge upwards. Once again they flipped position, the younger man slammed fully into the bed under the force of another kiss, darker hands pressing a palm on his pale forehead, the other on his pale throat, capturing him in a position to easily hurt him but he had never given reason to fear. When Sulu moaned lustfully, it filled the young Russian with his voice, and Chekov grunted welcomingly.

The other man swiftly went to his knees, all business with his dark brows low over those dark eyes. Pavel shoved a pillow under his lower back, while his lover slicked himself up one handedly and with the other breeched him with a single oily finger.

He opened easily, so much easier than Sulu ever did when their roles were reversed; it left the pilot bewildered and aching every time they did this. He had the best seat in the house as he got to watch Chekov, gasping, the ring of muscle fluttering around Sulu’s finger, nails raking red trails down Sulu’s pecs, draw his knees up invitingly.

Pale face blotchy red, curls tangled, lips parted and swollen, there was a glint in the younger man’s eye. Sulu knew that Chekov wanted it hard. Liked it rough, and even kind of mean. The promise of not having to hold back, of being free and greedy and powerful, put such a thrill in the pilot that he wasted no time.

He gripped the ensign’s thighs just above the back of his knees. His grip was almost painful, the pressure he bore down sending Pavel’s kneecaps snug against his own shoulders, a tingling pull in the muscles. Dark hair hanging rakishly in his intent eyes, Hikaru caught Chekov’s ankle bone lightly between his teeth, then angled himself and, despite the minimal preparation, pushed in the way Chekov liked it.

The ensign arched his back, crying out from the intense burning pressure, all ten toes spreading out wide. Sulu bent over him, forearms to the mattress behind Pavel’s shoulders, the young helmsman’s legs hooking in the crooks of his elbows. He began to move, hard.

Pain brought tears to his eyes, but he held on with a two-handed grip on the back of Sulu’s neck and soon enough the discomfort was bleeding into the kind of pleasure that left him drowning, breathless, yet wild for deeper waters. The slap of their wet flesh sounding through the room was muted under his own breath roaring in his head from where Sulu’s palms had flattened over his ears.

Slowly but surely, his erection, which had wilted during the pain of entry, swelled and began to leak spots and smears on his abdomen from where Sulu’s pounding caused it to bounce, the erratic friction from it maddeningly unpredictable and perfect. When Pavel reached for himself, he only got a few strokes in before Sulu was stopping in his debauching rhythm, lifting back up to his knees, chest heaving, mouth open, hair in his lust blown eyes, and pulling Pavel’s thin frame to sit up as well.

The position change happened swiftly, Sulu’s straining cock slipping out, the man dropping down onto his back to be straddled once again. Pavel gripped the classic wooden headboard with both hands and allowed Hikaru to guide his cock back in before commencing to slamming himself down on it repeatedly and so hard the bed frame dented the wall.

As expected, sweat beaded and dropped from his face, his cries had gone hoarse, his thighs burned from the repeated motion, his cock wept and itched at the tip with the promise of coming without being touched, just from Sulu’s thick, slick cock hot and hard inside him. Sulu gripped his hips like he could crush them, dragged his nails down his sides and thighs like he could peel them, and his darker, flawless, perfect skin gleamed, his dark hair sticking to his face.

Pavel came first, almost within the same moment Sulu took him in hand. He gave hot spurts to speckle Hikaru’s abdomen with a spasm of muscle to squeeze that still-hard cock buried deep inside him. So breathless he almost couldn’t see straight, Pavel went pliant.

Once again, they changed positions. Sulu frequently just kind of threw Chekov around in their couplings, flipping him over or dragging him down the bed, or picking him up to literally throw him into the bed, all with apparent ease; now, he turned him and pushed him down into the mattress, his ass in the air. He took Chekov’s hands and held them pinned to the base of his spine while he drove back into him once more, harder and faster than ever until he, too, finished.

Sulu stroked through his climax, pulsing out every drop into the young man’s guts. Motion stopped, labored breathing remained. Pavel had passed caring that his face was squashed into the mattress with a pool of drool, sweat, and tears. He collapsed in utter bliss as Sulu pulled out, popped him in the ass, and left the bed for the bathroom.

Remaining in a sex-blissed heap on the mattress, Chekov slowly regained his breath and acclimatized to the sudden empty feeling he always felt when Sulu left his body after such an epic fuck. Or any fuck, really. The shower started in the other room, the door wide open.

The young man lay and listened to the pounding of the water, watching the ceiling but seeing so many other things, parts of the past that made the present so much sweeter. When his heart rate had returned to normal, he dragged himself up and wobbled on jelly knees into the bathroom.

Sulu was humming the triumphant tune that was on all the Star Fleet recruiting commercials lately. ( _DAAAA ba-Da ba-da DAAAA ba Da ba-DA! BAAAA ba. Da. Ba. Da. baaaa DADADA DOT!_ ) Grinning, Pavel took a moment in the mirror to admire the dark, mouth-shaped marks already blooming on his pale neck from where they’d spent a good while simply enjoying each other’s mouths before the wrestling/sex began. He touched them, the warm little tags of affection.

Hikaru’s wet hand shot out of the open shower door and closed on his wrist, pulled him playfully under the water. Against the wall under the spray, Sulu kissed him soundly.  Chekov melted into it, now that he had cum so hard as to be out of commission for the rest of the night, he was back to simply enjoying his boyfriend’s mouth.

Sulu pulled away too soon, wicked smirk, and fiercely scrubbed all ten fingers through Chekov’s sodden curls, sending spots of water splattering outward, and then jumped out of the shower to give Pavel room to rinse off in peace.

Sulu had dried himself and stood naked in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth, when Chekov finished washing away the sweat and cum and lube from his body. By now that undeniably epic tune was stuck in his head as well, and he was humming it as he toweled off.

He had only gotten himself half dry, however, before Sulu’s arm looped around his collar bone. The man tucked his nose into Pavel’s damp hair behind his ear, inhaling deeply, other hand splayed flat on his stomach to draw him close.

Chekov turned in his lover’s arms and they kissed a half-minty, half-musky kiss, Pavel breaking it to examine some torn skin under his thumb on Sulu’s shoulder. It was not bleeding, but it was red and puffy and the exact size of his thumbnail. It seemed he’d gotten careless in his ecstasy, had allowed his nail to do lasting damage to his lover. “Apologies, _Miliy moy_ ,” he breathed quietly, hardly words. The first spoken since Hikaru finished with his third love bite and quietly but firmly declared: _I need to fuck you_.

Now, Chekov pressed his lips gently to the wound, a silent apology, one more palpable, to go with the first. The shoulder bobbed under his lips as Sulu shrugged it away. He gave Pavel’s ass a firm squeeze with both hands, to reassure him, and then pulled away and exited the bathroom.

He stopped at his dresser to dig out clean shorts as Chekov ran ahead and dove onto the bed, naked limbs flailing. Sulu chuckled, watched with affection as the young man twisted in the sheets, first displaying his achingly perfect ass, then the curve of his back, his side, the flatness of his stomach with this ribs poking through, placid cock soft in a patch of curls almost perfectly matching the ones on top of his head.

Sulu balled up and threw some of his shorts; they hit the target: his lover’s face. Pavel got his pale, boney feet in them and then bowed up from the bed to pull them over his hips. Sulu crawled over him to take his favorite side of the bed against the wall and with an arm around the ensign’s ribs, pulled him in to spoon him properly.

With a great sigh, Pavel linked their fingers, and mumbled, “ _Ty moyo solnyshko_ , _Hikaru_.”

Sulu’s lips quirked at the Russian phrase but it was not one of the few which he was only beginning to grasp. He pressed his mouth, moist and tender, to his lover’s shoulder, “What’s that one mean?”

There was a moment before Chekov answered and in that moment he squeezed Sulu’s hand tighter against his heart, “It means you are my sun. Zeh light of my life. Zeh one I could not surwife vizout. Is common Russian exchange for committed lowers.”

Chekov’s heart raced at the admission, the closet to talking about love they’d ever come in over a year of what had begun as sport sex. Sulu rested his forehead on the back of his neck and held him tighter. “I think you’re my sun, too, Pavel.”

“Whew!” the young man over dramatized to lighten the mood while at once conveying his profound relief to have his feelings returned, to be saved the heartbreak of unrequited love. Sulu chuckled and idly counted the thinner man’s ribs--no matter what he ate (and Sulu had seen him put it away) he remained this paper light and thin. At first, it was what Sulu liked the most. But lately… he had the notion that even if Chekov doubled or tripled in size, he would still want him here in his arms.

“In fact, I know you are,” he amended, for the record. He lifted his head to say it softly in his ear. Let it be said in both their languages. “You’re the love of my life.” The rush from saying it was ten times greater than the rush from having the best seat on a star ship as she soared through the heavens, bending into warp, dropping into hectic battles, looking black holes dead in the eye--none of that compared to this.

He’d embarrassed Pavel, and he knew it from the way the ensign turned his pale face into the pillow, but the sentiment was returned by a bump backwards of his hips into Sulu’s crotch. The simplest and most intimate of silent signals to say _I’m right here with you and ready for anything_.

They both fell asleep thinking that the smartest thing they ever did was fall in love with the helmsman who would always be found directly at their side all the way to the endmost reaches of the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at any kind of Star Trek fic whatsoever (if you couldn't tell) so be nice but, by all means, leave some helpful critiques and/or speak up if something important is wrong... like their rank for instance? Not sure yet if pilot is above ensign or what... :)


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